Death of a Bird

There is a dead cardinal in our yard. My mother has propped it up on a stick, watching as it dies. The bird’s mate, or “wife,” has been standing and watching her love slowly decompose. I guess this is kind of emblematic of my own mother’s misfortune: losing her husband and simply having to endure life’s trials anyway. It also seems that she has tied her future to that of the bird. Only time will tell.